I came across this story: “Woman Posting Pennsylvania Couple’s 109 Love Letters From More Than 100 Years Ago”
In short, a woman bought 109 letters (dated 1905 – 1910) from a street vendor and decided to start posting them on a blog, 109LOVELETTERS.
I’m curious what people wrote about 100 years ago, so I glanced at a few of them. There’s nothing particularly remarkable in what I read–a young woman writing about daily things in her life: work, church, mutual acquaintances. It’s pretty ordinary stuff, unlikely to land in the Smithsonian.
I had an unusual feeling when I was reading them, though. I felt a bit voyeurish peering at the personal correspondence of the long-departed. Often, when people discover human remains, they go to extra lengths to see that they are disturbed as little as possible. Aren’t private letters just as personal as someone’s bones?
In one note, Daisy, the letters’ author, writes:
I am writing under difficulties. My Aunt, two cousins and a friend are in the same room talking and having a good time. And every once in a while I can’t resist and must talk too.
In my mind’s eye I imagine Daisy sitting at a table trying to focus on her letter to John. I wonder if she had any idea that someday a guy in Tennessee, perched in front of a computer screen, would read what she was writing.
Probably not.